


white film

by ocelot



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocelot/pseuds/ocelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killing takes a toll on you, even when you're killing monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white film

Levi ruffles her hair like she's a kid. Like she's his kid. He was supposed to take care of her, but all he ever did was fuck her up. He's a different person around her. Softer somehow. 

It's always like this. The hour will get too late and all he can feel is smoke biting at the back of his throat and sleep clouds his memory, but he always remembers the feeling of her skin against his. Mikasa presses her body into his. She's in his arms, just slightly taller than he is. Her lips brush shyly over his. There is nothing shy about Mikasa Ackerman. There is nothing gentle about her smile or the way she runs her fingertips over his arm. The heart isn't a bone, but she has broken it every way it can be broken.   

Her kiss twists his raggedy heart. It is a muscle and it will heal.  

Levi licks at his lips. The memory of how she tastes crashes over him like a wave. This is twice now and it's no accident or mistake, but they'll both lie and say it is. 

He runs his fingers through his hair restlessly until strands break off.

"You'll go bald doing that." Mikasa smiles. 

She ruffles his hair. She likes his hair like this. Everything about him is always so neat. His clothes, his hair, his house. Even when he's exhausted he finds time to clean. Everything in its right place.

Levi sighs. He hates it. He looks frayed and tired and old. And maybe he is.

He leans into her touch for a second before pulling away. She wants to touch him. She wants to run her fingertips over every inch of his skin. She wants to kiss his lips, but she can't. She burns in her skin with desire.   

"About--" _Last night._

"It was an accident." Levi says. 

_Always is._

Now he sounds like the kid. Not taking responsibility for his actions and looking sad. Something about it makes her want to hug him and not let go, but she knows she can't.

Because that's not what they do. Because everything is easier when it's just killing titans. That's all they know how to do. Even before that all they knew how to do was survive. They've been surviving so long they've forgotten how to live.  

Mikasa smiles again. Softer this time. The light she used to have is dimmer now. He knows he will kill her light. There is a weight behind her smile that tugs down the corners of her mouth and line her face and shadows under her eyes.

"I know." Mikasa says, but she doesn't know. She pretends like she does. She pretends she knows everything that goes on inside his head, but he himself doesn't know everything in there.

He's a train speeding out of control in a blind tunnel and there's a light coming towards him. Levi doesn't know if she's his hope leading him out of the darkness or another just another train. 

_Collision._

 

*

 

"Sometimes I'm not sure who's the bigger monster, me or them." Levi hasn't slept in who knows how long. A few hours here and there, on and off again -- enough to keep from going insane. Mikasa thinks maybe that point's passed. He hit up against the wall of sanity and insanity a long time ago. Maybe that's why he's such a good killer and leader. He's calm even in the eye of a storm, especially in the eye of a storm.   

"There are no monsters, Levi, only the ones in here." Mikasa reaches out to him, her fingers hovering above his heart. She feels the scratchiness of his well-worn sweater, but never the warmth of his skin.

Mikasa doesn't believe in monsters or heaven or hell. There are no flames beneath her feet and no angels watching from above. Levi thinks she's faithless, but if there's anything she believes in, it's him.  


*

  
They work closely together. A little too closely.

Levi doesn't have friends, he has chess pieces. Levi definitely doesn't have more-than-friends, she is his queen. Erwin can't remember the last time he's seen him with a girl, or with anyone, but sometimes Levi will look at her with the softest of expressions and Erwin can feel jealousy furling in the pit of his stomach.

Levi studies her. The planes of her face, the specks of gray in her eyes, the way the light caresses every strand of her silken hair. He mentally jolts down everything about her. He commits the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips to memory because when he dies he wants her to be the last thing on his mind. 

It's hard on both of them because Levi doesn't touch and Levi doesn't need, and Erwin most certainly doesn't show weakness, but they need each other in ways that break apart the fundamentals of who they are. Erwin is not whole. Levi misses his full weight against him. 

Levi burrows his face into the crook of his neck. He can feel his pulse thrash under his taut skin. His blood sings in tune to the wind. Erwin wants to touch him. He wants to wrap himself around him. He hates the sinking feeling he gets when he feels Erwin's hand on him.

They linger there for a moment before pushing away. Levi doesn't look up at him. He keeps his gaze steady, distant as if the far off haze is more interesting than the look in Erwin's eyes. It wraps around him like cigarette smoke. 

"Do you fuck her because she's perfect? Because she's like you?" The words taste bittier than the smoke he's breathing in.  

Levi flinches.

"We don't fuck."

"What is it you do up there all alone then?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Erwin."

"So it is something?"

"Yeah we're trying to save the world. That's something." Levi snorts.

"Pompous ass," Erwin shoves him back a step. His touch his both gentle and rough. His fingers curl in the warmth of his sweatshirt. They're not at all like Mikasa's. They don't fit perfectly between his. His fingers are course with callouses and tug until fabric tears, until hair breaks off in strands, because he's desperate and scared -- they all are, but Erwin isn't afraid to show that he's afraid. Fear swims beneath his skin. 

"Yeah, but you still like me." Levi smirks. Like is the wrong word. Erwin loves him. Levi doesn't have friends, but if he did Erwin would be his closest.

"You always think you can fix everything, but you couldn't fix me."

"You're not broken." Levi says.

"Aren't I?" Erwin asks. His eyes downcast towards his stomp. He doesn't feel like the man he once was. In fact he knows he isn't the same. He's less, and not because of his arm. He's lost too many pieces. Pieces that have no blood-loss when shed. Pieces that can be buried within. In the mirror he sees a stranger and when he tries to sleep all he can hear is static crackling in his ears.  

"No." Levi whispers. Lost amongst the smoke and the wind.  

Together they breathe in the "fresh air." Cigarette smoke and burning bodies.

Erwin loves him. He loves him to the point of suffocation. Levi can't feel the air in his lungs without his ribs cracking under the weight of that love. 

Erwin notices as the year passes into the colder months -- frost becoming thick on the windowpanes and the sharp air stinging at his eyes -- that Levi is only happy, and that is a stretch of the word, when he is with Mikasa.

"You don't smile unless you're thinking of her." Erwin says. His voice is light despite the heaviness he feels in his chest.

"She's important." Is all Levi says. She is the most important girl in the world and even that statement isn't enough to describe Mikasa.

"You're obsessed with her." Erwin smiles. It's sad and broken like the shadow of a man he has become, but he still forces his mouth to make the expression that means nothing to him anymore.

Levi thinks maybe Erwin is right. Maybe he is obsessed. 

 

*

 

On the nightstand beside his bed dirty dishes collect grime. It's mostly empty teacups that he's too lazy to put in the sink. A few dogeared books and pill bottles gather between the rubble. 

"I can help you clean." Mikasa offers, noting the mess. It isn't like him. Levi hates mess. It clutters his head and makes it hard to think.

"It helps you, right?" She leans against his bedroom wall. 

"You think it's stupid?" Levi looks up finally. She takes his gaze for invitation to come closer. Despite knowing each other for over a year, decorating each other's minds with the horrors they've seen, and sharing a kiss they don't talk about they're still hesitant around each other.

"No." She exhales. "I don't think it's stupid. We all have our destressors."

"What's yours?" He takes her in like he hasn't seen her in awhile. She's always breathtaking to him, even when there are shadows under her eyes and her lips are chapped.

"You." Mikasa says finally. The silence lingers.

"You'd think I'd be a stressor." Levi smiles. Usually the emotion sits blankly on his face, but with her it reaches his eyes. They don't look so empty. She is the pale moon breathing beams of light onto the dark waters that are his eyes. He glistens only in her wake. 

"Levi." It's just a name. It's just a stupid name he made up for himself and yet it sounds like home on her tongue. Every word is sweet to his ears when it comes from her lips. She sits on the edge of the bed like she's a ghost in her skin. Amongst the white of the linens and the smell of stale food and teabags. 

Her skin brushes against his. She lets go of his hand almost instantaneously. The lack of her touch burns. It's an apology itself, but she adds softly, "Sorry, sir, I know you don't like to be touched."

It isn't a start because they've had starts before. They've had more starts and stops than should be allowed within a relationship. Every day is the birth of their beginning and their end.

"It's not that I don't like being touched," Levi admits. "It's that I'll need you."

"You already need me." Mikasa states plainly. He knows she's right. She's always right. She outstretches her hand and traces the crinkles of his eyes and the shape of his mouth as he smiles back at her. She presses her lips to his. He tastes of whiskey and cigarettes.

Just like last time.

She had brushed her teeth three times, scrubbing at her tongue, but she hadn't been able to get the taste out of her mouth. She hadn't been able to get him out of her mind.

"No." He whispers against her kiss. His breath tickles her ear. "You need me."

"I think it's a little of both, sir," Her voice is honey dripping down his throat. He'll choke on the sweetness. "Codependency."


End file.
